


you need me, just like I need you

by Anonymous



Category: The Smiths
Genre: M/M, Tour life, just another johnny and moz moment, silly and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27866125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: title is from My Love I’d Do Anything For You by Morrissey
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Morrissey
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Anonymous





	you need me, just like I need you

_A London hotel room, 1983_

*

Morrissey smiled in amusement as he watched Johnny dance idly around the hotel room, a Duran Duran record spinning in the player.

“I didn’t know Simon Le Bon was your man, Johnny.” he said shifting on the bed to lay on his stomach, feet crossed at the ankles.

“Ah, definitely.” Johnny grinned. “Who doesn’t love a bit of Duran Duran?”

He picked up his gin and tonic, taking a swig. “Want a gin, Moz?”

Morrissey considered this before nodding. “Just a small one. Don’t get me drunk.”

“Would I?” Johnny smirked.

He poured the drink and walked over, setting it down on the beside cabinet for him.

“You gonna just lie there all day and watch me?” he said, ruffling Morrissey’s hair with affection.

“Maybe.” Morrissey said. “Is that a problem, Mr Maher?”

“Cant blame ya.” Johnny quipped.

He began to dance around the room again, pausing by the mirror to try and tame his long hair into submission.

“You feeling alright now?” he asked a moment later, glancing back.

Morrissey nodded, sipping his drink before moving and sitting on the end of the bed. “Yes, thank you.”

His earlier headache had thankfully diminished.

“Cant have you going off sick, darling, who’s gonna sing?” Johnny said, still messing with his hair.

“Is that I’m good for?” Morrissey tutted. “Singing and getting half naked on stage for entertainment?”

“Well… if the quiff fits.”  
  
Morrissey blinked in mock outrage. “I shall refuse to sing if this rhetoric continues.”

“Blah blah.” Johnny grinned, turning back. He sank the rest of his drink and abandoned the glass before walking over. “Come on, dance with me.”

Morrissey watched him for a moment. “What?”

“Dance with me… here.” Johnny reached over and flipped the record to a slower track. “Come on.”

He held out his hand.

Morrissey huffed out a laugh and took it, standing up.

“You know how to dance, I’ve seen ya.” Johnny smirked.

He pulled the singer into him, sliding an arm round his waist.

Morrissey rolled his eyes but relaxed into the embrace, resting one hand on Johnny’s shoulder and the other twining with the guitarists.

“This feels rather formal.”

“I know, just pretend we’re at some posh place.” Johnny said.

They began to dance slowly, both giggling as they bumped into random furniture.

“Well, how you rating me?” Johnny asked, swaying them side to side.

“Hmm. A solid eight out of ten, John. Some room for improvement.” Morrissey said lightly. He smiled as Johnny ran a hand up the back of his neck, caressing his skin.

“Oh yeah? Sound.”

“And for me?”

“Hmm. We’ll say nine and a half. Don’t want you getting a big head.” Johnny pulled the singer closer to him, resting their foreheads together.

“Oh you charmer.” Morrissey smiled.

He moved and looped his arms round Johnny’s neck then, holding himself in close.

Silence fell for a moment between them, the slow hum of the music still playing in the background.

They swayed gently side to side.

“Ok?” Johnny murmured, caressing his thumb lightly along Morrissey’s jawline and down to his throat.

“Yes.” the singer breathed. He sighed deeply, mind quiet for once. “Content.”

“Good. Never thought I’d be here, though.”

“Dancing with me?”

“Dancing to fucking _Duran_ _Duran_.”

Morrissey laughed then, biting his lip. “Shut up Johnny, you’re killing the moment.”

“Sorry.” Johnny grinned back.

He slipped one hand down to the singers lower back.

“I shall remember this as a highlight of The Smiths 1985 tour.” Morrissey murmured, nuzzling into Johnny’s wild mop of hair.

“Me too, darling.”

Johnny paused their swaying then and they stood still in the middle of the room.

There was a long pause before Morrissey spoke.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we standing silently in the middle of the room?”

Johnny snorted with laughter. “Dunno. Romantic though, innit?”

He pulled back and they smiled at each in the dim light of the room.

“Yes. Pretty romantic.” Morrissey agreed softly.

Johnny pushed a hand through the singers quiff.

“You tired, Mozza?”

“I’m awake enough to dance with you.”

“Wasn’t what I asked.”

“Hmm. A little tired but rather enjoying your attention.” Morrissey said.

“Like you don’t get enough of it already.” Johnny grinned. “Come on. I vote we sack off meeting up with Andy and Mike and stay here?”

“That would be rather anti social of us…”

“So?”

“They’ll blame me.” Morrissey laughed, reaching out and twisting Johnny’s necklace round his finger idly. “They will think I have kidnapped you yet again, all for myself.”

“Ah Moz, who cares?” Johnny rolled his eyes. “C’mon.”

He slipped his arm round the singers waist and pulled him across the hotel room and out of the balcony door.

It was dark outside and cold, the fresh London air hitting them.

Many floors below the streets were still busy with traffic, music and laughter.

Johnny lit a cigarette and sat down on the rattan balcony furniture, gesturing for the singer.

Morrissey slid in next to him and they sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the city.

“Mad isn’t it? Being here.” Johnny said, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the night air.

“In London?”

“Just… this life.”

“Yes. It is rather bizarre.” Morrissey nodded.

He shifted, leaning his head on Johnny’s shoulder.

“Long way from Stretford.” Johnny laughed.

He extracted his arm and wrapped it round the singer, turning to kiss his head.

The two lapsed into silence then, Johnny smoking quietly.

“I think if someone had told me this would be my life two years ago… I would’ve been rather amused and thought they had lost their mind.” Morrissey said finally, tucking his legs up.

“I know. Sold out gigs, travelling to America, private jets, screaming fans. Mad.” Johnny muttered.

He leant sideways, stubbing out his cigarette.

There was another long pause between the two.

“I’m afraid of what will happen when we don’t have this.” Morrissey admitted quietly.

“Moz, you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Oh yes I do. Without this I shall…” Morrissey gestured vaguely. “I’d be back to my old mundane life.”

“Well it’s not ending, is it?” Johnny reasoned, rubbing his hand up and down the singers arm. “We’re going strong, aren’t we?”

Morrissey nodded, turning to look up at Johnny in the darkness of the night.

“You know me, I like to unnecessarily fret.”

“Well stop worrying, love. Everything is going good, yeah? Focus on that.” Johnny reasoned. He stretched one leg out, resting it on the small table.

Morrissey nodded again and pressed his face into the guitarists shoulder, looking up at the dark skies.

“Do you miss it? Home?” Johnny asked then, voice soft.

Morrissey considered this for a long minute. “No. Being there makes me rather melancholy. I enjoy being… on the road, doing these gigs and getting to sing.”

Johnny nodded his understanding.

“Why, do you miss Manchester?”

“A bit. Maybe just the familiarity? Dunno. S’why I need you next to me all the time.” Johnny smiled, kissing the singer on the head again. “You’re like my little comfort blanket, Mozza.”

Morrissey smiled. “The feeling is very much reciprocated, Johnny.”

“As long as you’re there next to me on the mic and I’ve got my guitar… I feel like we can take anything on and win.” Johnny said simply.

Morrissey nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Yes. Me too.”

More silence fell between them.

“S’funny really.” Johnny continued then as though there had been no break in their conversation. “I get nervous sometimes but then when I play and you sing, it’s like it just works. If I fuck up, you cover me, you just seem to… know what m’gonna do, you know?”

“Johnny, you never fuck up.” Morrissey smiled then. “You never put a foot wrong. Or rather, a chord wrong. You could play the entirety of our setlist in your sleep, I am sure of it.”

Johnny laughed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

He pulled the singer tighter against him then. “You cold?”

“A little. If you’re offering a warm bed then I would not oblige.”

“I’ll bet.” Johnny smirked.

Morrissey rolled his eyes in mock offence. “Be quiet or I’ll go partying with Mike and Andy.”

He laughed as Johnny half pulled him onto his lap then unexpectedly, dragging the singer across.

“Oh yeah, you’re leaving me, Mozza? Don’t think so, darling.”

Morrissey laughed again, fighting the guitarist stupidly for a moment before settling in.

“I would never.” he said simply. “Unfortunately for you, John, I’m destined to be next to you forever now, be it on stage or this tiny stupid sofa.”

“Its not tiny, you’re just lanky.”

“No, you’re just small.”

“Lanky.”

“Small.”

“Lanky.” Johnny poked the singer in the ribs, grinning. “Stop with the small, I’m five foot _ten_.”

Morrissey laughed at that.

“Oh Johnny, I’m afraid that may be pushing it, my love.”

“Fine… five foot _NINE_.” Johnny muttered.

Morrissey smiled and cuddled into him. “You don’t need to persuade me of your redeeming qualities, I am well aware of them and do not need any more reasons to adore you.”

“You’re sweet.” Johnny smiled.

A more severe gust of wind blew across the balcony then and Morrissey shivered lightly.

“Right come on, cant have you going down sick, Mike and Andy will bloody kill me.” Johnny said. “Up you get, love.”

Morrissey sighed but slid off the guitarists lap, stretching.

They made their way inside, locking the balcony door.

“You, bed.” Johnny ordered, cupping the singers chin and stroking his cheek. “You’re dead on your feet, no arguments.”

Morrissey yawned in agreement and sneaked one of Johnny’s t-shirts from his suitcase before getting changed and climbing into bed.

“Will I disturb you if I just play quietly for a while?” Johnny asked.

“No, no. I like it.” Morrissey sighed, pressing his face into Johnny’s pillow.

“Alright. Wont be long, yeah? Just need to get this tune out my head.” Johnny shrugged lightly, knowing the singer would understand.

He double checked their hotel room door was locked and turned all the lights out except for one lamp in the corner. Before getting his guitar, Johnny quickly walked over and pressed a kiss to the singers forehead.

“G’night, Mozza. Sweet dreams, ok?”

“Goodnight.” Morrissey murmured.

Johnny grabbed his guitar and settled down in one of the chairs.

He began to strum slowly, the songs blending into one long, soft tune.

Morrissey listened sleepily, trying to follow each song and keep up with the lyrics but before he could pick apart the soft chords he was asleep, a small smile on his face.

*

**Author's Note:**

> CEO of not being able to finish fics... this was supposed to be short haha. Anyway much love and stay safe everyone :)


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